Vow Kept
by Starkreactor
Summary: Sherlock and Mary have a needed conversation over Christmas just before John chooses to talk to Mary about her past. One shot reconciliation/forgiveness piece.


Mary looked up from the book she was reading, surprised at the figure that was standing over her. Sherlock leaned in, tea in hand, and placed it on the side table well-within the pregnant woman's reach.

"It was lovely of your parents to have us." Mary said, looking at him. She didn't move over when he bent over her, and as such his chest pressed lightly against her shoulder. When he moved to pull back, she caught his arm. He gave her a questioning glance, his brows furrowing over piercingly clear eyes.

"Oh don't look that way." She said, cocking her head and lifting her hand to unbutton his suit jacket. "You know exactly what I'm doing and why I'm doing it." She proceeded to unbutton his shirt as well, pulling the fabric away so that the dip in his flesh, just under his right breast, was visible to her. She brushed fingers across the healed skin, the muscles twitching and tightening underneath her fingers, even though he did not pull away. His eyes remained focused on her. "That's healed well." She regarded the shadow of a wound for a few moments before buttoning his shirt again.

"Surgery." Sherlock said quietly. "Often heals well."

"Oh don't lets go on with the charade." Mary said, meeting his eyes and sitting back. "John isn't in the room, you needn't lie."

Sherlock regarded her, but his expression did not change.

"Kneel down?" she asked, patting the arm of the chair. "Right near here? I'd stand but the baby's weighing on me and you're too tall."

Slowly, he knelt, his eyes never leaving her. She did not flinch under his stare, merely looked at his chest, where the suit-jacket remained unbuttoned and out of the way.

"It wasn't surgery. It was a kill-shot. Not a sure one, I'll give you that, or you wouldn't be alive right now." She reached out a hand and slipped it underneath his jacket, settling her palm against the middle of his chest with a steady pressure. "Ahh, see?" Mary hummed. "There it is."

"It wasn't surgery, it was sentiment."

"So was your decision to lie in front of John." she replied, her hand still pressing against his chest. "When I shot you, I wanted you to die. But I also wanted you to make it, because I saw what it did to John the first time. When you died. And you saw what it would do to him if he knew that I really hadn't known I wanted you to live until the bullet left my gun."

"He had enough to handle, finding out who you are."

"Yes." she nodded. "The things I've done, he might be able to forgive me for some day. But if I had killed you, I would have lost him forever."

"You did kill me." It was a calm statement delivered in an equally even baritone. Not a question, not an accusation.

"Yes. But then you pulled the impossible again, didn't you?" She looked at her hand, which had been pressed against his breast the entire time. Every beat of his heart, every quiver, every movement inside of him had met her palm in an undeserved show of trust. She had stopped that heart. She had doused that flame. And he was allowing her to warm her fingers against it anyway. "You saved all four of us when you came back from the dead, Sherlock Holmes."

"I did make a promise."

"And you're just stubborn enough to keep that promise even after most people would consider you free of it." Mary looked at him. "You have an incredibly strong heart, Sherlock."

"Good thing, if I'm keeping all four of us alive."

"Yes. It is a good thing. A very good thing." she said quietly, looking back at his chest and rubbing her thumb against his shirt. "It's remarkable."

His brow furrowed. "What is?"

"That so many would call you heartless." Her eyes locked with his and she sighed, pulling her fingers reluctantly away from his warmth. Even when she wasn't touching him, his phantom pulse still throbbed in her hand, as though he'd allowed her to take her portion of his life with her. She cradled that feeling in her lap and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. "I'm glad you came back for him." she whispered against his curls. "Because no matter what happens between he and I, I know you'll be watching over him."


End file.
